Hide & Seek
by World'sOnlyConsultingCriminal
Summary: Jim shows up for a little game... Which will most likely turn into something a bit more serious... But maybe Jim isn't really there for the reasons he thinks he is, and will Sherlock be okay with that? Eventual Jimlock. Rate is just in case.
1. Chapter 1 (Sherlock)

"Bored!" I shouted to the empty flat for the 213th time that hour. I hadn't had a decent case in weeks and John was now on vacation with Sarah. I rolled my eyes. A weekend trip to a nice hotel outside of London? Dull. I don't see the point. What is there outside of London anyways?

John's gun was nowhere to be found, and once again, Mrs. Hudson had confiscated my skull. Why she was so against that thing, I had yet to deduct. However, now I had nothing to shoot at the wall, and no one, not even a skull to talk to.

I was up for a game of Cluedo, but without John, it was slightly more difficult than I would have hoped for. I thought about trying to delete the memories of my "opponents" information, but it's more easily said than done. I considered calling Lestrade, but I was sure he wouldn't want to spend any unnecessary time with me. I was about to resign to my mind palace when my phone went off. I opened one eye to find that I had received a text from an unknown number.

_Bored? –JM_

Why was Moriarty texting me? I was tempted to ignore it, but I was really bored. And honestly, I would do anything to stop being bored.

_How did you know? –SH_

_I didn't know, I observed. –JM_

_ Meaning? What? You've got cameras in my flat? Dull. Boring. Predictable. –SH_

_ No, no, no. Sherlylocks. Who do you think I am? That's too ordinary. –JM_

_ This is way more fun. –JM_

I managed to keep a straight face, but on the inside I was doing my best not to panic. Moriarty and I had different definitions of fun. My fun was being the smartest person to exist and solving everything everyone else couldn't. His fun apparently was hiding in my flat.

_Oh. I'm sorry. Am I distracting you from the war going on inside your mind? I can read you like an open book Sherlylocks. –JM_

"Alright James." I called out loud. "Playtime is over."

_Come and find me. –JM_

I sighed. Great. Hide and seek with the second wittiest person in the world. Hide and seek with a fly would've been much easier. I considered retreating to my mind palace and allowing Jim to sit and get bored, but that was dull. Boring. Predictable. I needed something _interesting_ to do, even if that meant playing childish games with the consulting criminal.

I got up and looked around the flat. I noticed the rug moved off a bit there, a shoe scuff here. I found myself in the kitchen. That's where he was, I could tell. But where was he going to hide? In the microwave? Under the table? Hardly.

I stood there thinking for a moment before a hand and wrist appeared suddenly from underneath the table and grabbed my ankle before I could move back. I tried to kick and get his hand off me, but all I managed to do was lose my footing and tumble to the floor, smacking my head.

I was seeing stars when Moriarty (actually two Moriartys) crawled to my side.

"I don't think you quite understand the concept of hide and seek. Ha, I win." I managed to mumble.

"Oh Sherlock. Don't be so naïve. This really isn't just a game of hide and seek anymore is it?"

I tried to sit up, but he pushed my shoulders back down. I was still recovering from smacking my head like that. Probable concussion. Concussions are sometimes referred to as the "invisible injury" because you can't see a concussion. Obviously. A person may look fine following a concussion and may even feel fine. But I could tell you, I _did_ not feel fine. Many concussion symptoms may not show up for days or weeks, but mine were here _now_. Also, I was well aware that you don't have to pass out to sustain a concussion. I'm not an amateur. I'd have to watch out for nausea, vomiting, headache, balance problems, double vision or visual disturbance, trouble with bright light or loud noise, feeling sluggish, feeling foggy or groggy, concentration difficulties, memory difficulties, feeling dazed or confused, ringing in ears, difficulty processing information, and feeling like my head was spinning. Those were all major signs of a concussion. Just my luck. Moriarty had most likely planned exactly that. "Oh, if I give Sherlock a concussion, he won't be able to deduct anything as fast as normal and will just be a stupid git just like me."

"Don't strain yourself Sherlock." Jim broke me out of my mind rant. "I'm sure you've got a lovely headache now." He got up for a moment and I heard him rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. He was gone for just a minute before he returned with a glass of water and a small pill.

I managed to sit up. "I'm not taking that." It looked normal, but there was no way I was taking my chances.

"Why not? Do you not trust me?" He smirked. "That's a smart Sherlock."

He helped me stand up and I stumbled over to the cabinet myself. I opened a sealed bottle and swallowed a couple pills to help with the headache, gulping down the water. "Why are you here?" I blurted out as soon as I felt I was capable of speaking normally.

"Ah, straight to the point. You don't waste time. You sure you don't want to start with a little small talk? We could gossip… Talk about the weather."

I replied with a glare.

"Alright. Straight to it then." He said quietly. I'd never heard him sounding so unsure of himself. Usually he thinks he's on top, whether he is or isn't, he thinks he's the best and most sexy guy out there. "I need something from you."

I frowned, racking my brains for something he could possibly need from me… I came up blank. What in the world could James Moriarty possibly need from Sherlock Holmes?

* * *

_**Jimlock definitely isn't my thing, but it amuses me to see how my friend reacts to it.**_

_**I'll write another chapter if this is popular enough.**_

_**Let me know what you think.**_

_**Btw, I might not be updating for a while. **_

_**I'll be out of town.**_

_**My apologies.**_


	2. Chapter 2 (Jim)

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked reluctantly. I could see in his face how much asking a question like that disgusted him. I'm sure he just hated stooping down to the level of the ordinary people.

"I mean, I need something from you… and…." I couldn't continue. I couldn't tell him what I was feeling. He was the only person in the world that had allowed me to be _not_ bored. I'd always felt we'd a little _something_, and even when I thought I had beaten him, he still managed to turn around and blow my mind. We may be on opposite ends of the spectrum, but we were more alike than he (along with everyone else) thought.

"And?" He prompted me to continue. He appeared to be bored. This woud be more fun if I could get his heart reate up and his breathing to come nice and fast. In time, in time.

"And I owe you a fall Sherlock." I whispered. "I. Owe. You."

Sherlock frowned. "Any rational person would be thinking _you_ were the one that had hit your head. I already had my fall… Remember?"

I sighed, of course I remembered. It had been hard to fake my death at that close of viewing range, but it had been even harder to watch Sherlock jump… I may have been the one to make him do it, but let's just call it an initiation. And since he passed, I knew that I could let myself get closer to him. He was just like me. But of course he had no idea what I was trying to hint at. He was bloody Sherlock Holmes. The man had no knowledge of true want… of passion… of lust. So naïve. I wondered if he was truly a virgin, I hoped so. This would be all the more fun if he was.

"I owe you a different kind of fall." I replied vaguely.

I watched him carefully. I wanted to see his face at the _exact_ moment when everything clicked in that big, sexy brain of his. I had faith that he'd figure it out eventually. As I watched, I could almost _see_ the wheels turning in his head, racking his mind palace for _any_ information that could possibly help him out at the moment. He wobbled slightly on his feet and I frowned. The drugs I'd slipped him were obviously kicking in a little too fast for my liking… Maybe because the guy was so skinny, he rarely ate and I'm sure if he stood in front of me without that sexy, tight, purple shirt, I'd be able to see those ribs… How hot would that be? I could bit him, leave my mark… But I was letting myself get too distracted. If he was going to take too much longer to solve this, I was just going to flat out tell him. No more time to be subtle.

"You drugged me," He muttered and stumbled towards me.

"Obvious. It wasn't like it was real difficult. I'm almost disappointed in you. You should be more careful. There's a lot of people out there that are annoyed by you and think that the world would be better without you in it. Just be thankful I'm not one of them. I made you think I was going to give you a tampered pill, but in reality it was the water. You think you're so clever, but you're really not." I lied through my teeth, he was _so_ clever. And brainy is the new sexy. I couldn't lie, his cleverness turned me on. He stumbled again and I managed to catch him before he hit the ground.

"Get off me," he stuttered and tried to shove me away.

"If you insist." I let him go and he tumbled to the floor.

"Ow." He said, face in the carpet.

"Maybe next time you'll want to think twice about denying me." I chuckled.

"Well, it was nice seeing you James. But, I just had my fall… So I suppose you could blow your brains out. Or you could just simply walk out. You know where the door is. I'd appreciate the latter, whereas I'd rather not clean your blood and brains off the walls. It makes for a ghastly mess." He managed to turn himself onto his back.

I laughed and knelt down next to his head. "That really wasn't the type of fall I was referring to."

"I hate riddles." Sherlock mumbled.

"Get used to them." I whispered into his ear.

Sherlock groaned and tried to get up.

"Stop that." I said. "You won't be able to move for a while. There's really no use trying."

"Just tell me what you want." He was obviously getting frustrated. He wasn't used to being so vulnerable like this. But I just found it so hot.

"I want you… to fall… for me." My lips were just centimeters from his head.

He looked stunned for just a moment, before realization really dawned down on him.

"I should've known." He said slowly.

I nodded, "I think you _did_ know, but you just didn't realize it."

I waited for him to say something, to say anything at all, but he stayed silent.

Leaning down towards him, I waited for him to say something, or attempt to push me away, but he did neither. Half of me almost hoped he would, but I knew that I _wanted_ this, I _needed_ him.

When my lips touched his, I expected him to turn away, or at least just stay perfectly still. But without a moment's hesitation, he was kissing me back. Years of "hate and anger" flowing out into one passionate kiss. And I knew in that moment that Sherlock felt something more of me than just his "archenemy" or the world's only "consulting criminal." We had a chemistry that no one could compete with. I knew he loved his little pet, but John could no longer give him everything. I gave Sherlock most of his cases, his work. And now I could give him something no one ever thought he would need. I was giving him love.

I pulled away slightly, deciding that I didn't want the poor sod to lie on the floor. I felt almost bad for drugging him now. Apparently I hadn't needed to. I helped him up slowly and laid him down on the sofa. He reached up and pulled me on top of him, kissing me hungrily.

I had found Sherlock's weak spot. Under all that wit and cleverness, he was a man who had needs. Just like any other. He just didn't know how to acknowledge them, until now. I'd worked for so long to find Sherlock Holmes's weakness, I thought it had been his "friends" but he'd proved me wrong that time. Now I knew it, his weakness was passion… love. Things he'd never had before. Earlier in life I would have tried to use his weaknesses against him, but now I didn't want to hurt him. I couldn't even _imagine_ hurting him.

I'd come here to make Sherlock fall for me, but instead I'd fallen for Sherlock. It wasn't just lust and want anymore. This was love. And I wanted him to feel the same way; he had to feel the same way. He had to know how he made me feel, I broke the kiss for just a moment and stared to his beautiful eyes.

In a soft whisper I said, "I love you."

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3 (Sherlock)

I laid there for what seemed like hours, but who really knows how long it was. The drugs had worn off long before Moriarty had left (allowing to take part in our various activities), but I was too stunned and confused by what had happened to remove myself from the sofa.

The last words he had spoken to me were still ringing around through the rooms and halls of my mind palace. "I love you." I knew what it meant, but I didn't really know what _he_ meant by it, if that makes even the slightest bit of sense. I hadn't been able to reply, but even if I had, I'm not really sure what I would have said. I didn't _think_ I loved him. But how was I to know what love really was?

After he had said those three surprising words, things had escalated very quickly. And I was in no mood to stop them, for once my body reacted before my mind and things went rather differently than normal. I may have still been drugged, but I'd never felt more alive, I'd never felt more free. No one had _ever_ made me feel this way. People had tried, and failed, including Irene Adler. But James had tried _and_ succeeded. Despite what he had thought, I was not a virgin by technical terms. I let him think that because he never even bothered to ask. Maybe I would tell him, next time we were together, because weren't couples supposed to be honest with each other? _If_ we were a couple now I suppose. There had been a couple of girls at Uni, and one fella a while afterwards, but they'd all been boring, dull, and predictable. Nothing was interesting in the slightest bit. With them it had just been sex, and while it appeared to be pleasurable for the other party, I had found it somewhat disgusting. But with James… It was different. I could see what I had really been missing out on all these years. He could make me not bored in a different way than that of just fascinating cases with serial killers and fun games of Cluedo with John. This was something different, something interesting, something _fun_.

So there I stayed. Completely nude on the sofa, feeling almost disappointed that James had just got up and left after we'd finished… Twice. I had all but begged him to stay, but he just smiled, winked, and walked out the door. What had he turned me into? Whatever it was, I wasn't really minding it.

My phone went off and I glanced over at it.

_Sorry I had to run off. Dinner tomorrow night? Drinks and dessert afterwards? My place. –JM_

I grinned. So at least things between us appeared good. Dessert sounded lovely.

_That sounds delightful. –SH_

_I'm looking forward to it. –JM_

_As am I. -SH_

I nestled more into the sofa and glanced at the time. John could be home any minute, but I wasn't in the slightest mood to get up and get dressed. My eyelids got heavy, and I found myself surprisingly tired. My eyes had been shut for maybe five minutes when I heard John and Sarah giggling in the hall. I couldn't help but grin, this one would surely piss off John, especially if Sarah was with him.

The door opened and all I could hear was Sarah's small, "Oh."

I opened one eye to see her back retreating into the hall, and John fuming. I chuckled slightly. "Glad to have you back John."

"Sherlock! What the _bloody_ hell are you doing?" He stammered.

"I'm trying to rest on the sofa. Obviously."

"Did it ever occur to you to at least put _pants_ on?"

"Surprisingly enough? No."

John eyed the messy room. "What have you been doing?"

"I already told you, I'm resting."

"Your clothes are _all_ over the floor. What are you not telling me Sherlock?"

I looked away from him and closed my eyes again.

"Please put your trousers on." I felt something land on my stomach and I sighed, moving just enough to slip them on.

"Happy?" I asked.

"Not really."

"I could take them back off." I joked.

"That's really not what I was aiming for." I heard him walk towards the door once more. "Sarah! The water is clear if you still want to come up for a bit."

"No, that's alright." I heard from the door. "I should be off anyways. I'll call you tonight."

I heard John sigh, "Thanks for that Sherlock."

"You're very welcome."

"I was being sarcastic." John muttered

"So was I."

"No, you weren't."

I just shrugged. I heard John walk up to the sofa.

"Now seriously Sherlock, what happened here?"

I sat up, "Are you going to let me sleep here? If not, I'd best just go to my bedroom."

"I know Moriarty was here." He said slowly.

I looked up at him with surprise, how could he possible know that? I looked around the flat, looking for any giveaways. If I couldn't find one, how could he?

John must have known what I was thinking. "He was sitting out front when I came back."

I didn't have anything to say. The whole time I was sitting here being lonely, James was out front only a few steps away?

"He said you guys had a nice little chat and that there was no reason for me to kill him. I hope that was the truth."

"You tried to kill him?" I stood up a little too fast and immediately got dizzy.

John steadied me. "I just threatened him; I wasn't exactly carrying my gun with me. Sorry if you wanted him dead. What did he do to you Sherlock?"

"Nothing." I muttered, stepping onto the coffee table instead of walking around before heading towards my room.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Oh, and I have a date tomorrow night." I said turning around. "What should I wear?"

I thought John would pass out.

"A date?" He stuttered.

"Yes John. I believe that's what they call it… When two people that like each other go out and have fun?"

"Yes, but… With who?"

I chuckled, "Ah, Dr. Watson. You're an idiot." And with that I shut my door behind me.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4 (Jim)

I had left Sherlock's flat as fast as I could, the fact that I'd just screwed my archenemy was really starting to get to me. The worst part was that I really was sure that I was in love with him. Scratch that. The worst part was actually that he hadn't said it back as soon as I told him that I loved him. I tried not to pay too much attention to that small little detail, but that was really all I could think about before I could politely excuse myself.

I really did have something to do and people to see, but instead I had sat in front of 221B Baker Street for a good few hours. I didn't realize I was waiting for John to return until he did, accompanied by a female friend. I guess you could characterize her as "pretty," but I'd always preferred men. They were strong and independent. You didn't have to take care of them as you would a woman. I'd had my experience with them, always wanting you to do this and that. It was always about them and they _expected_ you to protect them when something dangerous comes around. If they weren't so petite and weak they could protect themselves.

When John showed up, he'd threatened to kill me. But really, what's new? I could tell he wasn't actually armed. He'd just returned from a short holiday and he really wasn't prepared to see me. He and whatever her name was had just gotten out of what seemed to be a rather heated argument, and John was trying to take back something he had said. Another reason I despised women, they always assume they are correct. She wasn't close to forgiving him; John had a long night of apologizing and sucking up to look forward to. Sherlock isn't the only one with mad detective skills.

"What are you doing here?" He'd ask.

"Sherlock and I just had a little chat. I'm sure he'd love to tell you all about it. I'll leave that up to him." I stood up from the bench I'd been sitting on.

John tried to come at me, but whatever her name was held him back. "John."

He glared at me and told me to go to hell, along with some other not so nice phrases.

"He's fine, John. Please calm down. It's okay."

"No it is _not_ okay! You stay away from him."

I laughed, "Not a chance. It is always a pleasure John." I started to walk away, ignoring his rants. I heard whatever her name was say something quietly and John start giggling. I sighed. Ordinary people. They are so predictable, and so _stupid_. They couldn't even stay focused on a topic for more than a couple minutes.

I called my car and waited for it to pull up. I had people to blow up, lives to ruin.

Twenty hours later, I found myself in front of the mirror only half dressed, trying to decide what color really looked best on me. I needed to look amazing for Sherlock. I'm sure he'd be wearing his purple shirt of _sex_. That's really all that it was, and it was _so_ not fair. He was tall and lean, his hair was perfect, and those eyes… I could drown in those eyes. His cheekbones were too amazing to be real. And the way that his suits were just slightly too tight…

I shook those thoughts out of my head; it was _not_ the time to get distracted. I checked my phone. Thirty minutes and Sherlock would be here, I told him that I'd send a car to get him. I had to check to make sure that it was already on its way. After making that quick phone call, I finished getting ready and checked to make sure the help had the table set.

I wrinkled my nose when I saw they had pulled out a white wine, I sent it back. Red wine is so much sexier. I sat down and awaited my date. At exactly seven o'clock I heard the front door open and listened to my favorite driver (whatever his name was) lead him into the dining room.

My breath caught in my throat when Sherlock walked in. He _was_ wearing that purple shirt. That bastard, he _had_ to know how that shirt made people feel. I couldn't be the only person that got totally turned on by it.

"James." He nodded at me before seating himself.

"Sherlock." I smiled. "It's lovely to see you again. You look fantastic."

Sherlock chuckled. "That is irrelevant, but thank you."

"Irrelevant?"

"Yes. Irrelevant. Part of speech: adjective. Definition: not connected with or relevant to something." He spouted off like a talking dictionary. So hot.

"Yes, yes. I know what it means. What I was asking was, _how_ is it irrelevant?"

"Right. Well, being physically attracted to someone is, in my opinion, just ridiculous. In a blink of an eye, a person's looks can change. If you were just attracted to someone, and suddenly their looks were gone, what is there left? Nothing. No. I'm attracted to one's mind. How clever and witty they are, whether they can hold a conversation without boring me. I know its cliché, but it's what is on the inside that counts."

"Ah." I said quietly. "So you find my mind… attractive?"

"Precisely." Sherlock winked at me. "But that suit does look very nice on you. Is it new?"

I laughed. "No, it isn't. But thank you." I called for our food. "Would you like some wine?"

"I would love some. Thank you."

I poured him a glass and watched him. He sniffed it and took a sip. "Romane Conti, year 1997. You don't just go halfway do you James. A bottle of this is priced at over 1000 pounds. It's one of the most expensive wines to ever be made."

"Anything for you." I chuckled. "But I have to ask, how did you know?"

"This French red Burgundy smells of berries, spices and leather. Dark in color, it hints at flavors of soy sauce, flowers and licorice. The aroma is rich and penetrating without being too profound. The Romane Conti is a rare wine that has carved a niche for itself along the years. I'd know it anywhere."

"So you've had it before?"

"Of course not. I don't have this kind of money to blow on alcohol." Sherlock took another sip. "But I'm sure glad you do, it is absolutely amazing."

"I'm glad you like it."

Three courses and two bottles of wine later, Sherlock and I were still at the table, laughing over stupid jokes like a couple of schoolgirls.

I got up and wobbled a little, I hadn't had a bit of alcohol in years, and drinking a whole bottle wasn't really something I had been prepared for. "If you'll excuse me, I must use the restroom before I accidently laugh too hard and end up with an embarrassing mess."

Sherlock chuckled and stood up. For someone who I thought we be a horrible drunk, he was steady on his feet and not a single one of his words so far had been slurred. "Do you need help getting there?"

"You just wanna see me naked." I teased, but grabbed his arm anyways.

"You caught me."

He led me to the bathroom door, and waited outside the door while took care of things.

"Maybe I should make some coffee," I said stumbling out.

"I'll make it." Sherlock disappeared into the kitchen and I made my way onto the sofa in the living room. How embarrassing. I couldn't believe I'd allowed myself to get so intoxicated. I flopped down and waited for his return.

Before long, he returned with two large mugs of steaming coffee and sat down next to me.

"I'm sorry."

"For? I'm having a great time."

"Apparently I don't have quite the tolerance to alcohol as you do."

Sherlock laughed. "Don't worry about it. At least you can speak coherently. Believe me; John has come home a couple times so drunk he can't even manage a simple good night."

I giggled and took a couple sips of my coffee. I could feel my head start to clear a little bit. "Speaking of you and John…" I prompted.

"What about us? We are close friends, flat mates obviously. We work together. That is all."

"Good." I set down my mug and took his out of his hands.

"Good?"

"Yes Sherlock. Good. Now use your amazing detective skills and tell me why that might possibly be a good thing." My face was now just centimeters from his.

"I think I have a fairly good idea." He leaned down and kissed me on the lips softly.

"Precisely," I said after a moment.

After a moment of thought Sherlock added, "I'm sorry I didn't say this earlier... But I love you too."

I smiled and kissed him again. Everything was perfect.

* * *

_**Well... That's the end of that. They bang, the end. xD**_

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_**Good day. xxx James Moriarty**_


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